Tuesday, January 25, 2011


I don't know why I am the way I am.

Ever since I can remember, I have felt a strong, primal urge to hurt myself. Not kill myself, not cause major injury. I don't want to make a mark, I want to feel the pain.

It's not some sort of weird sexual thing. I don't get any sexual pleasure out of hurting myself.

It's a high, sort of. It makes me feel alive when I'm numb inside. When I'm hurting on the inside, it brings the pain to the surface so I can deal with it.

I'm covered in scars. I'm forever marked by my demons.

I don't hurt myself anymore. Not the way I used to, anyway. Now I hurt myself with destructive behaviors and thoughts, destructive whispers to myself: "You, my dear, are a piece of shit."

I have this strong urge to modify my body in any way possible. I want to tattoo every inch of me, pierce everything I can pierce. I want to cut and carve and change every contour of my body, peel off my old skin and grow new skin. And I want it to hurt.

I wish I could tell you a sad story, about abandonment, abuse, neglect, torture. But I don't have a story. I had a ridiculously normal childhood (with pain, of course, but no more so than anyone else) - every part of my life has been normal.

No one hurt me deep enough to leave these scars, so I have to create them myself.

1 comment:

  1. When I was younger I would take sewing needles and stick myself deep with them because it filled the abyss that I had breifly with some feeling, I was also a cutter.

    Anyways I learned from some people I met in the hospital back then that some used the pain so they could feel the love and good in their life stronger. Kinda like when you sit in a hot tub before jumping in the pool so it feel cooler.